A History in Notes: in the 10th century
by errance.ivrogne
Summary: The building of Hogwarts, as documented by Rowena Ravenclaw


**I know this doesn't exactly fit in with HP canon (especially the birth and death dates of the Founders) but it's just a bit of fun, so yeah, here goes naught. **

_923 anno domini_

_Rowena Ravenclaw_

_This is to be an official record documenting the process of building a grand creation._

King Constantine II has asked his High Advisors, Lady Hufflepuff, Lord Slytherin, Lord Gryffindor and myself, to teach the magically inclined masses. He has a wish for a greater number of sorcerers to add to his army and court; it seems he believes we are the key to the future rule of England.

I have met my soon-to-be partners but yesterday and I must say, I am unsure as to how successful this venture shall be. While Lady Hufflepuff seems to be quite an agreeable woman, the same cannot be said for Lord Gryffindor and Slytherin (the fact they are not women none-withstanding). They appear to have developed a spontaneous rivalry; Lord Gryffindor's brash nature grinds on Lord Slytherin's arrogance and vice versa.

We will be holding our first meeting to discuss the future between us four at noon a-morrow.

_924 anno domini_

_Rowena Ravenclaw_

Well, it has been a year since I've made my, dare I say friends' acquaintance. Helga is a dear but _very_ strong willed. She appears to have no trouble going against the wishes of Godric and Slytherin! I must say I am a little envious.

Godric himself has turned out to be quite gallant once you get to know him; he seems uncouth at first, but later on, while he does not rid himself of this curse _entirely_, he becomes a quite agreeable fellow.

Slytherin on the other hand…while I have no problem with the man in theory -in fact he has been quite gentlemanly himself- in person there is a certain…_air_ about him. Deceit perhaps. Or perhaps I am simply imagining things.

In response to King Constantine's wish as stated in the last entry, we have decided to build a school of a kind. We of course cannot accept any and all who show magic potential inside; we would run out of money, time and undoubtedly, patience. Godric suggested we take in only those from prominent families, while Slytherin demands their blood must be pure from mixing with non-magic folk. I understand his reasoning of course; after all, intermixing can lead to diluted blood so why should we waste time and resources on those who have little potential for strong magic?

On the other hand, dear Helga has raised her voice quite loudly against these methods; she demands we not limit ourselves to the upper crust of society. She believes that simply because they are not born into wealth or magic should not mean their opportunities should be diminishes. I also see her view; where does one find gold but at the bottom of river beds? We may be missing a great witch or wizard by cutting off such a large percentage of the population.

We must also, of course, consider how those not chosen to attend the school will feel; only choosing certain sons and daughters may incite rebellion in the lower ranks and faltering loyalties in the upper.

While we have selected a location and drawn up plans for the building itself, it seems we have still a long way to go in terms of achieving a mutually satisfying agreement.

_926 anno domini_

_Rowena Ravenclaw_

The building of the school is well underway now, since the buds have begun sprouting and the ice has receded unto the fresh soil. Unfortunately, we have encountered a problem.

The location we have selected, with permission of the King, overlooks a great lake. It seems the lake leaves the confines of Danelaw and travels into Jorvik. A small group of villagers have come to oppose the building, saying that our magical presence has disturbed the fish that the village relies on. It seems the protestors are led by a man named Wulfhelm. Quite an intimidating name for not a very intimidating individual I must say. He is quite squat with a face that looks like it has been stretched with many an impish grin. He does not look like a rebellion leader.

Salazar and I are going down to negotiate at dusk to-night.

_926 anno domini_

_Rowena Ravenclaw_

Something terrible has happened. A day has passed since our talks with the villagers. We thought the problem has been solved, as we diverted fish-rich waters from another river closer to their village, which should have ended our involvement with them. Unfortunately it was not so.

It seems that the lad, Wulfhelm, had taken it upon himself to attack one of the guards while we were away, seeming to believe that we would either harm the villagers or our negotiations would fail. He could have caused no damage besides a few bruises, and yet a guard hit him over the head unnecessarily hard with his pike. Despite Helga's best efforts, the man died before we had returned. We cannot return his body to the villagers; apparently he had been a vagrant, an unwanted trickster, who has caused quite a bit of trouble for them. The town-leader explained that they had only followed him out of necessity. He had had a plan he had not seen fit to discuss with them before his death. They do not want his body in their graveyard.

We have decided to bury the poor man in the fields beside where the castle shall stand. The guard has been dismissed, the savage.

_931 anno domini_

_Rowena Ravenclaw_

Well! The nerve of some people! Although the building is complete and ready to be filled with eager minds of the new generation, all four of us, though _extremely _busy, have been summoned, by King Æthelstan to Colchester, for his first 'Council of All England'. A great tide of boring pleasantries seemed to be the only reason we were summoned such a great way. Thankfully a few of our friends were also in attendance, so we at least had an opportunity to discuss the success with the building of the School, even if the King does not deign to honour us with his words.

Oh yes, there is another thing. It appears Wulfhelm is not as gone as we had thought. It seems like his spirit, undoubtedly due to his stubborn nature, has refused to pass through the Veil. He is lingering here and being quite a nuisance, I daresay. His sullen presence has polluted the serenity we wished to fill the corridors of our school with. I will be having a talk with Master Aðalsteinn about having him banished from the building.

_932 anno domini_

_Rowena Ravenclaw_

We have welcomed our first group of students, hired our first lot of teachers and have overseen our pupils' wellbeing and progress ourselves. Due to our difference of opinion in disciplining students, we have made the decision to divide the school into four houses; one for each Founder. Since Salazar has not yet given up his notion of utter blood purity, he may receive them in his own house, while Godric, of course, takes the lions at heart. I, myself, favour those who have a thirst for knowledge; after all, is this not why we built the school in the first place? Meanwhile, sweet Helga, with her grand heart, accepts the rest, readily. She is quite the mother of the school.

Wulfhelm cannot (or will not) be banished, it seems. No matter what we have tried, he seems determined to stay. He has changed, though, with the introduction of students. While he does not float around as though a storm cloud himself, he instead takes to playing vicious tricks on the poor children. He appears to be in the unfortunate possession of the ability to grab material objects. The students have taken to giving him a nickname; Peeves. Appropriate, for that seems to be all he is. Constantly.

_942 anno domini_

_Rowena Ravenclaw_

While…while our school has been running grand, I'm afraid another tragedy did slow our path of progress. Salazar, he…he has left us. But yesterday we sat together, we looked over our children, the 3rd generation now, and I thought we were content. It seems I was wrong. This morning he expressed a hatred for his life now. He believes himself to be poisoned by the 'stink of muddied blood within our halls'. Salazar had presented us an ultimatum; either we rid Hogwarts of the unpure of blood or he shall leave. I daresay none of us thought him in his right mind, nor serious. We refused, Helga loudest of all. It was as though lightning had struck him. He glared at us and as I looked in his eyes it seemed they were endless pools. Pools of venom and black hatred. What had happened to him to make him so cold inside? He took his bags and left through the front entrance. The sky is now dark, as though someone had frozen the sun in mourning and he has not returned. Godric is beside himself; he and Salazar, despite their original enmity, became incredibly close. I do not know how Helga is dealing. She has taken over the task of comforting the Slytherin students. Salazar was like a father to them, many of the young ones feel abandoned.

Forgive me, my hands are shaking so I cannot record more to-day. We shall see what a-morrow brings.

_947 anno domini_

_Rowena Ravenclaw_

I am weak. Through pain and sorrow and betrayal I lay in my bed and I cannot get up. It takes all my strength to record these last words. My daughter, Helena, has left me, taking with her my diadem. I can barely believe it still, though it has been two years gone now. I remember my sweet daughter; raven haired beauty she was, so very clever, surrounded by droves of gentlemen eager for her hand. But she did not fall for the folly that is a man, not after her father so cruelly abandoned me. No, she stayed unbowed like an oak, she did not fall. But how I wish to see her but once more before I die. For die I shall, I can feel it near, the Veil draws closer and it is warm. It is a place without pain upon moving, or splatters of blood I cough up in the night. I shall see Salazar again, hopefully changed for the better. We all felt it, years ago, his death cried out through our souls as our brother fell through the Veil, alone, perhaps out on the Scottish planes or in the dark forests, we do not know.

I do hope the dear Baron returns with Helena before the darkness catches up with me. I cannot keep running, and it is tiring me. I do not wish to feel pain any more. Helga does her best, brewing potion after potion in her best imitation of Salazar, but they can do no more than delay my fate. I can see how my illness is aging Godric too. He has always been a handsome man, but the lines upon his face are deepening every day he sits beside my bed. Helga has sent him to bed to sleep now, after three days when he would not move. She herself is out making the final rounds of the students' beds.

I am coughing now, harder than I have since I have sickened. I can feel the world fading, I can barely write. Will it be now? The one moment all my friends, my sister, my brother, are away, is it now I shall pass?

Out of the corner of my eye I see a silver shadow. I must be dreaming, for it look like Helen-


End file.
